


Betrayal in Kindness

by CoopPenny



Series: I’m More Than You Think [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, BAMF Harry Potter, Battle of Hogwarts, Gen, Hospitalization, Hurt Harry, Master of Death Harry Potter, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Ron Weasley Bashing, Scarred Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-28 18:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20783399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoopPenny/pseuds/CoopPenny
Summary: To hate an enemy is nothing, nothing about them can be redeemed in the eyes of the hater. But betrayal is only found among friends and is so much more painful than anyone could ever imagine. It’s like the person you thought was your friend had reached into your chest and squeezed your heart with a sick grin on their face, laughing at your expense as you look at them pleadingly, silently begging for it not to be true… Harry really did hate life…





	Betrayal in Kindness

**Author's Note:**

> This was a reserved story that I didn’t really plan to post just yet (I wanted to get further along in the series before putting it out there) but I’ve been kind of hectic this week with lessons in Uni (journalism, if you’re curious) and I’m trying to be more ‘study proud’ with the work, so this leads to little time. I’ll adjust in a few weeks.
> 
> However, as a result, I wasn’t able to write a new chapter for one of the stories already on my account for a weekly update. So, this will be my Wednesday update instead of a new chapter. Sorry to disappoint if you were seriously desperate for a ‘Young and Angelic’ chapter…
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this all the same. And just a heads up, I haven’t really gotten around to proof-reading it yet, so if you wanna leave a comment and complain about horrendous grammar, then please tell me! Thanks! Hope you enjoy!

Pain seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body, making him want to cry out in absolute agony: his muscles burned horribly from the long and hard-won battle, his knees ached from crashing into the jagged ground as he fell from the onslaught of power, the small rocks cutting deeply into his skin. But that all paled in comparison to his open wounds, itching and burning from the curses that made them, forcing the blood to flow freely down his body, the feel of them opening up bigger and bigger with every passing second. In all honesty, Harry felt like he was dying. Like his life was slipping away, the last strands of it dripping past his trembling fingers like running water.

But Harry couldn’t care less.

The feeling that overwhelmed all, overwhelmed his horror of the battle that he had just participated in. Overwhelmed the terror of the fact that he had actually killed someone with the cold want of killing them, never mind the fact that they had attempted to kill him first. Overwhelmed the agony that he felt all over his body. Soaring above all the rest, Harry felt the warm, tingling feeling of complete and utter freedom.

He’d done it.

He’d completed his task, passed over the mountains and valleys of his life that the hand of fate had dealt him. He jumped over the hurdles that the Wizarding world had presented him, sat in the scorching hot seat and let them love and hate him when they best felt like it. He’d willingly walked to his death after so many crap years of life: the abuse of the Dursleys, the heart-gripping danger that he was thrown into year after year, the dismissive adults when his life was on the line, the bipolar student body that could change with a snap of their fingers. He had very few happy memories, all of them tainted with anger and sadness in one way or another. Now, the prophecy had been fulfilled and the strings of fate, that had attached themselves to his limbs had been cut as soon as Voldemort had hit the ground, unmoving and dead with no way to come back. He was free…

One way that he wanted his freedom was to finally die… He wanted to join them, find happiness in the afterlife that he had never found in the life he led now. Everyone that he could ever love and loved him just as much in return was on the other side of that vail. His parents, Sirius, Dobby, and all of those that he had been lost in this thankless war… He wanted them back and he would happily die once again in order to see them and love them all over again.

He was ready to go. For the third time in his life, he was going to die and he couldn’t feel happier about it.

Feeling his head begin to swim, his vision dancing in and out of focus almost teasingly, as more blood escaped him and steadily formed a puddle beneath him. The large wound in his side burned horridly, making him grit his teeth with a wince as he placed more pressure on it. His hand was probably dyed red from the amount of blood that was transcending down him, the wound was the biggest one that he had, a cutting jinx thrown his way from a sneaky attacker from behind, ripping at the skin from his soft, unprotected side. It had nearly cost him his match against Voldemort but there was no following jinx after that one, so he had assumed that one of his friends had taken the Death Eater down. He’d received many damaging blows throughout the battle, the sting of his shoulder and temple indicated another wound and he just knew that his wrist and one of his legs were broken due to a bone shattering curse - Harry was just thankful that it hadn’t been his wand arm that was broken.

But now, everything was over and the silence along the blood soaked and debris riddled battle was absolutely deafening. The dust and the grey clouded sky now bathed him in a cold light, making it hard to see through it and spot any moving people. He didn’t really care if no one found him. He had come accustomed to dying alone and this was the much preferred death than a death where he was surrounded by people he hated and were not below mutilating a dead body if it pleased them. Here, he would die alone, a champion that will be remembered throughout history and nothing more. He knew that if he survived this battle, he’d be more harassed than he ever was before and they’d paint him more and more like a knight in shining armour, expectations leaving them with disappointment when he wasn’t all they thought he would be that turned slowly into resentment, hate and jealousy.

Breath stuttering as he wheezed through the blood that was slowly but surely filling his lungs, every breath painful and unsteady, indicating that he didn’t have much long to go now.

“This-“ he wheezed to himself, a lone tear of pain escaping his bright green eyes, “This i-is it…”

And he took one final breath, a small smile on his face as he felt himself starting to leave, the muscles in his body suddenly going lax and his wounds became numb as he slowly slipped from the mortal grasp of his body-

Then it stopped.

He choked on a breath as he took one in, feeling like his departing soul was suddenly shoved back into his body, forcing him to stay alive. Choking on his breath a little bit more, Harry found that his extensive injuries were suddenly painless and it no longer hurt to breath. A frown marred his features as he considered this. What the hell was going on?

“Why aren’t I dead?” Harry wondered out-loud, looking at his hands that were still blood soaked and then lifting up his shirt to eye the large gash that had been the main head-hunter for his impending death. His frown deepened when he saw the wound, it was still wide open, exposing raw flesh and just a hint of bone - so that was why he couldn’t breath… Swiftly, he turned away, attempting not to gag at the sight. But he couldn’t help but notice that the impressively large wound had stopped bleeding when it was in no way clotted. In fact - he lifted up his shirt to take a look at his wounded shoulder - all of his life-threatening injuries had stopped bleeding.

It was like time had stopped, and as he looked around him, he realised that it was true. Through the dust of the devastating battle, Harry eyed the small flock of birds on the horizon that had been frozen mid-flight. As he carefully looked around, Harry spotted his friends in the distance, mouths open in a shout of his name, their running forms paused mid-step. While Harry was immensely happy that Hermione and Ron were alive and well with a minimal of injuries, he felt a dropping feeling in his gut about who was powerful enough to freeze time just to talk to him…

“You are not dead because I have not permitted you to pass on. We have things to discuss and an audience is not in our best interest at this moment in time.” the voice came from behind, managing to sound both impossibly loud and a near-silent whisper, both strong and something akin to a death-rattle. It made Harry wince at the voice and want to go to it all the more.

Carefully turning around, Harry had to look up a long way to be able to see into the dark hood that shadowed the figure’s face. The figure was thin, boney with ripped robes decorating his figure, draping over the sharp edges of his body in an artwork of tattered remains. But, at the same time, the figure seemed strong and imposing, as tall as Hagrid, if not taller with broad shoulders and long fingers that curled around a staff that was taller than the man before him, the nails ending in sharp cruel talons. The figure’s face wasn’t clear. For one, he was shadowed by the draping hood that he wore, but as Harry looked closer to make out any definitive feature such as a nose of jaw line, it changed and shifted every few seconds as it changed face, never settling on one feature for long.

Harry didn’t need to be told who this was, he could feel it in his gut like instinct that this was Death.

A feeling of dread seemed to settle upon his shoulders like a hefty cloak, but he shook it off. What fear was there of Death? He wanted to die, wanted to go to him and be spirited away into the afterlife, where he so obviously belonged. But Harry felt like that wasn’t what Death was here to do… Again he shrugged the feeling off, what other thing was Death going to do other than take him away?

“Are you here to take me away?” he asked, being careful to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

Then Death tilted his head, and Harry had to oddest thought that Death looked sad, filled with regret and sorrow as he looked at Harry who was still kneeling in the puddle of his own blood. The figure shook his head and Harry’s face fell as his heart sank into the acid of his stomach, eroding it away.

“Wh-What? What do you mean? Why are you here? Isn’t it my time? I’ve evaded you twice before! I’ve done more of my share of time here, don’t I deserve to move on?” Harry asked desperately, springing to his feet as he looked up at the shadowy figure pleadingly. Why wasn’t he taking him away? Why?!

Death nodded his head slowly, “Fate had done you a great disservice when she took you from my domaine and placed you back into your body as a mere child. And while I would happily take you again, I cannot allow you to move on. The Hollows have chosen you as their Master, and so have I. Hadrian James Potter, you are now the Master of Death, immortal, powerful, whole. This is a gift upon you that none other has and will ever receive, and we find you in deserving of it.”

The entity stepped forward, the wand cloak and ring suddenly in his possession, but stopped when Harry stumbled back, patiently waiting as the teenager righted himself.

Green eyes burned brighter with the power of his anger and fear all mixed into one, “I can’t be the Master of Death! I never held all the Hollows at once!” he shouted in panic, taking another step away from the title that was being presented to him, “I don’t want to be immortal, I don’t want the power. I’ve never sought after the title or the items. I refuse the title.” he stated strongly as he glared up at Death, wanting the embodiment to take in already.

There was a sound that came from Death, and it took Harry a moment to figure out that it was a sigh, “It is not something that you can refuse or deny. You are already the Master of Death when the Elder want finally accepted you, this is just making it official.” he stated, still holding onto the items.

“Why? Why me? There are hundreds, if not thousands, of people - muggle and Wizards - out there that wishes for this title, for this power. Take it from me and give it to them!” Harry shouted desperately, not even bothering to wipe his eyes as twin hot tears fell down his face. He was so tired. Just so tired and worn. He just wanted to leave. To fall asleep and never wake again. He wanted to die…

Hearing his young Master’s wish for death, Death’s face turned down in shame of what he was about to force onto him. While Death couldn’t be happier for his Master and companion to be Ignotus Peverell’s dependent, one of the few that had greeted him in the afterlife as a friend, he hated to deprive death of someone who begged for it so, but it had to be done…

“No one is worthy of the title Master of Death. Only you, Hadrian James Potter are worthy of this power.” Death rattled on, stepping forward as to present the child with his items.

Immediately, Harry had tried to dodge away from the entity but panic gripped him with icy fingers when he discovered that his legs wouldn’t obey his command to move. He hurriedly gripped at the material of his trousers and tried to force them from the ground that his shoes were stuck on. Panicked green eyes looked to Death that was drawing ever nearer, breath stuttering in his chest when he found that Death was now a mere few inches from his struggling form.

“Please,” Harry begged, voice barely a whisper as he bowed his head in what was already defeat, “Don’t do this to me…”

“You shall find happiness in this life, Hadrian James Potter. In the most unlikeliest of places, you will find happiness. I am sorry, my Master. May you forgive me one day.” And with that, Death lifted his skeletal hand and touched the bicep of his arm, the pain was immediate and intense. Searing agony travelling through his entire being, rushing in his blood, filling up his organs and replacing the bone marrow until it came to settle on one concentrated point on the underside of his left bicep. In reality, the pain and contact had only lasted around a minute, but to Harry, the pain felt eternal, filling him to the brim with pain and power.

Then it was over and Harry found himself panting on the floor, the blood from his gaping wound continuing to flow to the ground and the muffled shouts of his name sounding like they were submerged in water. The last thing he saw was Death bowing his head respectfully towards him, before he disappeared in a cloud of ash, trailing into nothing. Then blackness finally enclosed around him…

* * *

When he woke up, he woke up slowly.

His head throbbed and his body stilled ached with spikes of pain whenever he shifted this way or that, so he stopped and settled back down into the comfortable bed that he didn’t think should be so comfortable. He breathed out a long sigh as he let his muscles melt into the soft fabric, heavy eyes closing to get some more sleep, free of dreams and mayhem.

“Hadrian Potter?” came the soft voice of a female that was off to the side of him, filled with a questioning tone.

Forcing his eyes open, Harry held in a wince as he shifted himself up in order to look at the woman. Green eyes met grey and Harry took a moment to stop and think, trying to figure out who this woman was and how she knew him… She wore light closes, not ones that were overly happy colours, but whites and greens that looked faded and sterile, robes short and straight with minimal material hanging off if her, that seemed to be in favour of the Wizarding fashion. She looked kind of like a nurse…

And then it all came back with searing clarity. He remembered ever hex, jinx and curse. Remembered exactly what the mad man said to him before he died, remembered how the lifeless body of his parents’ murderer fall to the ground due to his spell. Remembered dying… Then he remembered Death…

“Oh no…” he breathed, tears once again filling his eyes, hands beginning to tremble and his body beginning to shake. But he held the tears at bay as he looked at the nurse once again, taking in a shuddering breath as to clam his nerves. “How long was I out?” he asked in a tight voice.

The nurse seemed to grimace, though only slightly, before her professional persona took over and she stepped forward, hands folded in front, “You were out for a week. Most of your injuries are healed, but due to the darkness of the spells that were used to create them, they have taken time to heal as well as leaving some scarring. Your broken bones are completely healed and you were mainly unconscious due to the major blood loss and exhausting your core, which should be fully rested by now."

There was a stretch of silence between them as Harry looked down at his bed, letting his untamed hair fall slightly over his forehead, fingers fiddling with a random thread that was attached to the blanket. “What about the others?” Harry asked, voice tight with emotion once more.

“Others?” the nurse asked, frowning slightly in confusion.

“In the battle. Who died? How many of my friends were killed?” he asked, ‘How many of my friends did I kill?’ on the tip of his tongue, but he withheld. Silently, he looked up at the nurse with dead eyes, which shook the nurse to her very steel core. No boy of seventeen should ever have to look like that, have to go through what he did and look like he’d seen a thousand deaths. Wizards are supposed to protect their young, their future, but the nurse could see how epically they had failed in that goal when she looked into the bright green eyes of Harry Potter and only saw the eyes of someone so much older than what he physically was.

Her lips pinched together, eyebrows drawing together ever closer with her reluctance. Pity shone in her eyes and his gut dropped at the prospect of any of those he had claimed as his family being dead…

When it became clear that he wouldn’t get an answer straight away, he moved on. Narrowing his eyes at the nurse, he asked “There’s more, isn’t there?” and with the uncertain look upon the nurses face, he pressed on, “There’s something else that’s wrong with me… What is it?” he felt almost afraid of the answer that she would tell him.

“We ran a full diagnostics on your magic as well as your physical state, just in case you had gotten hit with a magic infecting curse which wouldn’t reflect your physical state. We found something… terrible.” the nurse choked out, seeming close to tears with what she was about to say, for how can a child of his age, even if he was magically mature now, he was still a child, be so violated as he was… “We found numerous blocks and compulsions that had been administered onto you since you were barely four.”

“Blocks?” he asked confused.

“For powerful criminals, not only would they be sent to Azkaban for their prison sentence, they would also have blocks placed on their magic, restricting them from using it for the simplest of spells. Your block was weaker and a lot more specific than restricting the whole of your magic but it’s still a terrible crime… The magical signature within the blocks and compulsions was that of the late Dumbledore. While his death has weakened the magical block, it has not completely dissolved away.” the nurse explained, and Harry frowned, finding it hard to believe what was being told to him.

“How- Why… Why would he do that to me? If my magic was restricted, how was I able to defeat Voldemort? What else has he done to me?” he asked, feeling close to tears once again, a painful lurch in his heart that felt like it was being torn into two. The news that Dumbledore had done this to him made the world feel like it was slowly falling down around his ears, every chip and shard of his world slowly and tauntingly falling around him, all too fast and too slow…

“There were seven adjustments overall. One was an intelligence block, a core block, an occlumency block,” at this, Harry’s head shot up, eyes wide with surprise before he looked down at his covered legs again, feeling more betrayed than he had been before… What had those lessons with Snape been? A joke? He frowned deeply at the thought, but shook it off, feeling too overwhelmed to be trying to decipher anything that was done by a dead man. “An affinity block, a mental compulsion, a magical tether and a heritage block.”

Quietly, still feeling like he was caught up in some horrible dream where everything had been turned on its head and people he once trusted were no longer friends… “What… What do those mean? What did they do to me?"

The nurse looked away her knuckles turning white as she gripped the parchment, looking like this was the last thing on earth that she wanted to be doing. Harry couldn’t really blame her, after all, no one liked to be the barer of bad news.

“An intelligence block effects mainly the memory function of the brain. While the block can never effect your magic from learning the spell casting my muscle memory, it can effect your mind. Facts and information that would usually be okay at remembering are easily forgotten, making it nearly impossible to learn a basic subject properly. Albus managed to block 45% of your brain capacity, which would have made you easy to manipulate due to the fact that…"

“I would have been too stupid to know any better, to question the facts that he gave me…” Harry finished off for the unwilling nurse, feeling like more and more of an idiot than he ever thought was possible - that’s saying something after his years as having Snape as a teacher. “What else?”

“You appear to have the natural ability of occlumency, making it impossible to be mind controlled or have your mind read, unless by your say so. The only reason it would have been locked away would be the desire for someone to project Legilimens onto you in order to read your thoughts without you knowing.” the nurse licked her dry lips, feeling uncertain at the Twice-Savour’s continued silence, but soldiered on, knowing that her patient needed to know. “A mental compulsion that commanded your instant dislike and distrust in all things related to the Slytherin house of Hogwarts. You have an affinity for air, and while the ability cannot be blocked completely, your likes and dislikes associated with the ability, a natural ability to control it and easily learn complicated spells about it are nullified.”

Harry tilted his head slightly at that, mind flashing to the broom that jumped up into his hands while his classmates struggled, souring high and far and never wanting to come down, his love of Headwig, his snowy owl before her untimely death. He’d seen other Wizards, classmates and adults, interact with their owls and none were as close a relationship as he and Headwig used to have.

“The heritage block was one of the complicated blocks put on you. In case of a blood test at the Gringots bank as you see what families you were tied to. How this got passed the Goblins, I have no idea, but it prevented any other family from showing up other than ones you specifically knew about.”

“I never took a blood test. I didn’t know what it was when I was younger and when I grew, I never gave it a second thought. I was just handed a key and told that it would unlock my vault left to me by my mother and father.” Harry shrugged, that was easily amendable in his head, he’d just do it when next went to the bank.

“A magical tether that tied you to your blood relatives, a compulsion for you to stay with them. This kind of this is extremely dark as the magical tether can dement the objects’ responses to one another, often becoming violent and beginning to fester if there was any starting spark of resentment. It can often lead to death if one is not careful.” then the nurse smiled, “But it looks like this compulsion was destroyed when you turned eleven."

Thoughts of all the beatings, the neglect, the taunting and near-slavery that the Dursley’s had put him through remained bitter in his mind, even if they didn’t mean to. He just couldn’t stop himself from resenting his family as much as he did and that was just something that would never change between him and them…

“Then there’s the most oddest one of all. It’s a core block, one that is used on convicted prisoners as so that they cannot escape. A large section of your core has been sectioned off, growing as it would, but inaccessible. The small amount that you have access to has grown with it, but due to your situations of life threatening danger, it’s grown to four times its natural seize, matching the seize of the blocked section of magic, which was how you were strong enough to defeat You-Know-Who.” The nurse explained, a note of awe in her voice, “It is really quite remarkable…”

Harry ignored that comment, shrugging off the uneasy feeling that set in his stomach whenever someone told him how special or unique he was. Nothing good ever came from those that thought they had found a higher power than themselves.

“No…” Harry started, low pitched low, “It’s not remarkable, it’s a violation…” He held no emotion within his voice and his eyes seemed hollow, washing the awe from the nurse’s system to be replaced by a shuddering reality. She knew that tampering with one’s magic was an extreme violation, it was essentially rape among the Magical community, and here she was admiring the outcome… She had never been more ashamed in her life…

“And my friends?”

The nurses heart lurched, making her feel sick. She had never had to give someone so young so much bad news in all her professional career…

Silently, she waved her wand and a parchment appeared before Harry, which he greedily took within his hands and then nearly tore it apart when his hands tightened around the thick and ancient looking paper, hands trembling as his tear-filled and sorrowful eyes went up and down the long list of people, reading and rereading the names before him. He knew so many of them… He’d sat next to them in classes, a pleasant conversation in the hall, a passing hello on his way to his destination. He could place a clear face to every name that had ended up on the list.

Then his breath stuttered to a stop in his chest, tears threatening to spill over as he caught some of the names, ones that he had considered family, people that had carved out a place in his heart...

Fred Weasley

Remus Lupin

Nymphadora Tonks

Lavender Brown

Colin Creevey

Severus Snape

“I want to be alone now.” came the hoarse voice of Harry, breaking and cracking with emotions that he could barely contain. He’d stopped crying in front of other people when he was five, when his Uncle had called him an attention seeking bitch and had beaten him until he could’t move a muscle before kicking him into the cupboard and locking him away, he wasn’t about to start now.

Wordlessly, the nurse nodded, refolding her hands in front of her professionally as she instructed him to call her if he needed her and left the room, closing the door shut with an audible click behind her.

Immediately, Harry broke down, hot tears streaming down his face as he sobbed and hiccupped out his grief, shoulders shaking with his heaving breaths. For the first time, he looked down at his body and cringed at the sight, at the left over scars from his days of abuse. The Dursleys had never picked up with the beatings again once he had returned from his first year at Hogwarts; originally Harry had assumed that they feared him too much to beat him senseless anymore, now he could only think that maybe that was the magical tether finally wearing off after all these years? He cried harder as his thoughts travelled and he couldn’t help but assume that most of the people that had died during the war would have been saved if he had full use of his magic… Maybe Sirius would still be alive?

Variations of ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ filled his head, consuming his mind with grief and pain. But it all came down to one lone figure. One that stood tall and thin in garbed clothing, half-moon glasses and twinkling grandfatherly eyes. The manipulator. His tormentor. His betrayer. At that point, he realised that Dumbledore had hurt him more so than Voldemort had ever done…

Then he looked down at the list of people, most of them still in school, barely past maturity or not even mature yet. Children that were killed in a battle they never should have had any part in… Had Voldemort caused these deaths? Had Dumbledore? Had Harry? That was a haunting question that Harry never wanted to think about… But nonetheless, he felt the icy fingers of his companion’s deaths resting on his shoulders, whispering pleads and questions in his ears: ‘Why didn’t you save us, Harry?’.

The fingers gripping his hair curled tighter, making him grit his teeth from the pain as he let out an anguished scream, letting out all of his feelings of anger and betrayal like a loin’s roar. As he did so, a serge of magic blew out from him, knocking everything that wasn’t bolted down over in his fury.

“God damn it!” he roared again, tears never stopping in their endless stream of torment down his face. He then released his hair, never-minding the tufts that stuck out, and let his lax hands fall to his sides, head bowed in defeat, “God damn it…” he repeated softer, voice barely audible in his grief…

* * *

Now, he sat in his home, one that was filled with the ghosts of deafening screams. But he paid no mind to the past ghosts that had once resided here as he stared blankly ahead, ears filled with the silence of 12 Grimmauld Place. An hour before, it had been filled with yelling, with tears and accusations.

Only last week, he had been released from the hospital, the blocks and compulsions fully dissolved and his magic under control after nearly a whole two months of trying to calm the tidal waves of magic that he could barely get a grasp on, until the Nurses cut off his magic and released it bit by bit so that he wasn't overwhelmed by the sheer power of it all. Due to this, Harry had been quarantined until he was healthy enough to leave and so hadn't seen hide nor hair of his friends other than the letters that he had been forwarded by the healers.

Apparently, they were all doing great. Hermione had her parents back after a month of looking for them, working with some highly trained Wizards that had degrees in mind magic to reverse the memory wipe she had placed on them. The Weasley family had been inconsolable by the loss of Fred, George especially, but they had been given a large sum of money by the Ministry as an apology. Anyone that had survived the fight in the Battle of Hogwarts had been awarded medals of honour for bravery, labelled as heroes throughout the nation. Harry had gotten one too, but he barely looked at it, disgusted by the Ministry who seemed keen on bribing them into forgetting that they did nothing to help them in the fight, deserting a school full of students and a handful of adults to fight their battles for them.

On his last day, before he was released, Harry was visited by the Ministry of Magic representative, explaining that he was going to get a large amount of compensation due to their ignorance of Dumbledore's manipulations, the Dursley's abuse and all the family that he had lost in the war; compensation for his mum and dad that he never got before, Sirius Black who had been his uncle by blood-adoption and Remus Lupin, who had been labelled his godfather beside Sirius. With that, they left with happy smiles on their faces, thinking that all was well now that they had bought him off...

Almost immediately, Harry had gone to the Goblin's, nerves due to the last time he was there had resulted in him stealing the Hufflepuff cup from a vault that wasn't his, taking their Dragon and resulting in one of the Goblins actually dying. But while he was recovering, he had received a letter from Gringotts asking for him to attend a meeting as soon as he was well.

In all honesty, Harry thought that he was walking to his death as he passed the twin white pillars that made up the archway entrance. However, as soon as he was spotted, he was spirited away by one of the Goblins, one of the fasters serves in the history of Gringotts bank, and before he knew it he was before the Head Goblin, who asked for his blood so that they could properly do his inheritance. After completing his sheet of parchment, he was escorted to the vaults that he had inherited and then was formally apologised to on behalf of the whole of the Goblin Nation. Apparently, something that was worse than stealing from someone else's vault, was being blocked from your true inheritance. All was forgiven after he apologised and paid the fine of a thousand galions, which hardly put a dent in his savings now, and was left on the Gringott's doorstep, blinking owlishly, completely overwhelmed with what had just happened. Quickly, he snapped out of it and rolled up his copy of his inheritance and tucked it into his jacket before he strolled on.

Seeing Hermione and Ron for the first time after the war was like a breath of fresh air, something so natural and delightful that it felt like a weight on his lungs that he didn't even know was there had been lifted. He'd greeted everyone with hugs and smiles, babbles of happiness and concern at how long he'd been in the hospital arose but he just batted them away. They filled him in on everything that had been going on, the Ministry being fixed, the Death Eater's rounded up and put away for good, Sirius Black's name cleared even after he had died before it could have happened. They told him about the memorial that was going to be placed in Hogwarts, the building now fully repaired, for the fifty men, women and children that had fallen in the battle, too soon had they been taken away...

Then they told him something that had the blood in Harry's face draining away, before sprinting for the nearest toilet to hurl his guts up into. He had gotten a letter - they all had. A letter to addend Hogwarts to complete their seventh year that they had missed out entirely, on the run from a blood thirsty madman. They wanted him to go back to that place. To that horrid place where he had died, then then nearly died a second time. To that dreadful place where he'd lost friends and family alike. To a miserable place where the Headmaster he had looked up to had been a crook, a liar, a deceiver that had stabbed him in the back ten times over, even after his had plunged to his death.

"No." he had refused, shaking his head desperately, "No. I'm not going back."

Hermione had stepped forward, pity and understanding in her compassionate brown eyes, "Harry, I know it's going to be hard but-"

"No, Hermione!" Harry roared, magic lashing out as it broke a vase across the room, making them all jump, "I'm not going back there! I refuse!"

"Hey!" Ron shouted back, face reddening with anger as he stood in front of Hermione as if to protect her from him, "We're all going back! What? You think your too important to go back? Is that it?!" he accused, face getting redder to match the roots of his hair.

"No!" Harry shouted back, completely thrown. How could they have gone through so much and still they came back to something like this? "No, I-"

"What!?" Ron exploded, expression twisted in announce as he looked at his friend. But Harry stayed quiet, he didn't want to tell them what Dumbledore had done to him, how he had been betrayed, how he had been given the title of Master of Death without even asking for it... What would they say to that? Would they give him the comfort that he so desperately needed and deserved, or will he get a jealous glare and a cold shoulder like what happened in the Triwizard Tournament. So he kept silent, thinning his lips as he looked at the two of them. "That's what I thought. How could you-"

"I'm leaving." Harry stated, surprising even himself.

"What?" Hermione asked, completely taken by surprise.

"I'm- I'm leaving..." Harry trailed off, knowing that he meant every word, "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to leave. I hate it here. I hate the Ministry, I hate the Profit, I hate the accusations and the praises. I don't want to do this any more. I want to leave. Start fresh. Maybe travel around the world for a bit. Maybe I'll come back in a few years, but I need to leave. Now." he finished, fidgeting slightly at the prolonged silence of his two closest, oldest friends.

"So that's it then?" Ron asked, trembling slightly with rage, "We help you throughout all these years and then you decided to up and leave?! Dusting your hands of us after all we've been through together?! After all we've sacrificed for you?!"

"Been there for me?!" Harry roared back, making Ron flinch back in surprise at his returning yell, "Like you were there for me when I was forced to participate in a tournament that nearly killed me?! Like you were there for me when everyone thought I was a freak for speaking to snakes?! Like you were there for me when I had to go back to the Dursley's every year despite knowing how the treated me?! You were there for me Ron, but never for the parts that counted-"

"I LOST MY BROTHER BECAUSE OF YOU!" Ron suddenly bellowed, the accusation like a sucker-punch to the throat for Harry. He didn't even hear it when Hermione gasped and then started to chastise Ron. Then the ginger, suddenly realising what he had said, started to babble and stutter as he tried to correct the poisoning words that had been thrown so forcefully in Harry's face...

"- I didn't mean it, Harry. I'm so sorry. I-"

"Get out."

"W-What?" Ron asked, unshed tears in his eyes at Harry's hollow command, "Harry, c'mon, mate. I didn't mean-" he tried to step forward, to rest what would be a comforting hand on his black-haired friend, but stopped when he saw him flinch away, hurt blooming in the redhead's chest.

"I said get out." he breathed out in a shuddering breath, the command seeming like a shout in the still and quiet room.

"Come on, Ron." Hermione insisted in a low voice, obviously manhandling the redhead to walk out of the house. Though Harry couldn't see, the long bangs of his dark hair obscuring his vision.

As soon as the door clicked closed, Harry released a sound from his throat, raw and small, like a wounded animal, before he dropped to his knees and released his thrashing magic, sobs growing in loudness as the objects around the room shattered and broke under the stress of his misery...

Now, hours later, in the middle of all things broken and destroyed, Harry stared hollowly at the sheet of parchment that he had gotten, eyes roaming down the list of things that were offered to him, analysing each word and number...

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hadrian James Potter

Father: James Charles Potter (deceased)

Mother: Lily Evans (deceased)

Godparents: Sirius Black (deceased)

Remus Lupin (deceased)

Lordships:

Potter Family - Inherited by blood (paternal)

Black Family - Inherited by blood adoption

Peverell Family - Inherited by blood (paternal)

Gryffindor Family - Inherited by blood (maternal)

Slytherin Family - Inherited by conquest

Sedamont Family - Inherited by blood (maternal)

Vaults:

Potter Vault:

Galions - 82,984,930

Sickles - 80,546,208

Knots - 187,846

Magical Items:  
• Potter Portrates  
• Diamond’s eye  
• Collection of brooms  
• Photo albums  
• Collection of wands  
• Potted Lily messenger

Books:  
• Map Making for Dummies by the Marauders  
• Transfiguring through the Ages  
• Wand Cores and Their Purpose  
• Charms Development  
• Rules of Quiddich  
• Goblin's Magick  
• The Magic of Hogwarts

  
Black Vault:

Galions - 97,904,264

Sickles - 647,947,016

Knots - 745,125,603

Magical Items:  
• Cursed bear claw  
• Mirror of Truth  
• Various dried plants and poisons of poison  
• Axe of a thousand wounds  
• Dagger of crusio  
• Skin-deep dagger

Books:  
• A thousand Dark Curses  
• The Mystery of Dark Creatures  
• History of the Blacks  
• Dark and Light families  
• Wards and Spells by Orion Black  
• Brewing Poisons and Deadly Plants  
• Spelled Objects: A Theory  
• Werewolves: genes and instincts

  
Peverell Vaults: 2

1st Peverell Vault - Knowlege

Galions - 544,258,760

Sickle - 935,367,089

Knots - 356,283,683

Magical Items:  
• Protective necklace  
• Chalace poison detector  
• Magical sight glasses

Books:  
• Elven personal diaries of Ignotus Peverell  
• Quarry about Death magic and Death Items  
• Ignotus Peverell’s personal Potions Book  
• Ignotus Peverell’s personal Wards Book  
• Wizarding Sports: Through the Ages  
• Magical Cores: Light, Dark and Grey

2nd Peverell Vault

Galions - 1,994,952,633

Sickles - 3,768,222

Knots - 3,341,268

Magical Items:  
• Merlin’s Staff  
• Season-changable robe  
• Winged cuffs  
• Sun pendent  
• Moon pendent  
• Endless coin pouch

Books:  
• Seven personal diaries of Antioch Peverell  
• Nine personal diaries of Cadmus Peverell  
• The Tale of the Deities  
• History of Magical Creatures  
• Elemental Talent  
• Animagus: Trial and Error

Gryffindor Vault:

Galions - 862,652,111

Sickles - 10,711,095

Knots - 4,146,929

Magical Items:  
• Sword of Gryffindor  
• Dragon Scale Cloak  
• Dragon Tooth Daggers  
• Fire-proof clothing  
• Summoning holsters  
• Indestructible shield  
• Indestructible braces

Books:  
• Ten personal diaries of Godric Gryffindor  
• Light Spells  
• Dragons: A Personal Account  
• Secrets of Hogwarts: written by the Four Founders

  
Slytherin Vault:

Galions - 925,861,232

Sickles - 25,749,111

Knots - 1,956,937

Magical Items:  
• 52 pints of Basilisk venom  
• Green-eyed snake bicep-band  
• 12 Basilisk fangs  
• Collection of snake scales  
• Salazar Slytherin’s Staff

Books:  
• 21 personal diaries of Salazar Slytherin  
• Studies of Cures for Venom and Poison  
• Accounts with Snakes  
• Parselmouths and Their Abilities  
• Celebratory Rituals  
• Development of Cores  
• Spirits and Poltergeists

  
Sedamont Vault:

Galions - 14,251,387

Sickles - 953,924

Knots - 164,671

Magical Items:  
• Forget-me hat  
• Ampli-necklace

Books:  
• Dark Creatures and how to Befriend Them  
• Culture of Wizards: by the Country  
• Legend of the Squibs  
• Effects of Generational Curses

Properties:

Potter Manor (South Coast of England)

Potter Waterfall (Iceland)

12 Grimmlaud Place (London)

Black Manor (North England)

32b Black House (America, Florida)

Peverell Manor (West coast of England)

Brothers Estate (Canada)

Mortago Cottage (Italy coast)

Gryffindor Manor (Russia)

Lion’s Den (South Africa)

Dragon’s Cave (Himalayas, India)

Slytherin Cave (Australia)

Chamber of Secrets (Scotland)

Darakin Basement (Germany)

Sedamont Manor (Southern Ireland)

Canopy Nest (Amazon)

White-Sand Palace (Australia)

Blossom Reve (Japan)

Red-Flower Ranch (Romania)

Blockages:

Intelligence Block - effects were memory problems while learning; block 45% of brain capacity (Activated aged: 4) (Deactivated aged: 17)

Magical Core Block - effects were hinderance while attempting to access magic while learning and using spells; block 70% of core (Activated aged: 4) (Deactivated aged: 17)

Occlumency Block - unable to learn Occlumency (Activated aged:11) (Deactivated aged: 17)

Mental Compulsion - instant dislike and distrust of Slytherin (Activated aged: 4) (Deactivated aged: 17)

Magical Block - extra capabilities blocked and unable to use (Activated aged: 11) (Deactivated aged: 17)

Heritage Block - unable to claim more than Potter vaults when consulting with Goblins (Activated aged: 1) (Deactivated aged: 17)

Magical Tether - tied to direct bloodline with a compilation to stay; could also lead to effect the interaction the bloodline recipient has (Activated aged: 1) (Deactivated aged: 11)

Special Capabilities:

Parselmouth

Corporal Patronus charm - stag

Grey Core - Level 10+ power (off record)

Affinity to air

Poisonous blood - laced with Basilisk venom and counteracted with Phoenix tears

Immortality

Titles:

Prophecy Child

Boy-Who-Lived

Saviour of Magical Britain

Lord Potter-Black-Sedamont-Gryffindor-Slytherin-Peverell

Basilisk Slayer

Tri-Wizard Tournament Champion of 1995

Twice Saviour of Magical Britain

Dragon Friend

Burglar of Gringotts

Defender of House-Elves

Master of Death

~~~~~~~~~~~

The list was long and overwhelming. The last one on his list of special capabilities had sent a shiver down his spine, dread curdling in his stomach; immortality. He didn’t understand the desire that most people wanted with immortality, watching the world change from something familiar and loving to strange and cold, watching your friends and family grow old and move on without you, lingering like a ghost on the physical plain, able to do everything that a human could, but was still different. Who would ever want this… curse?

Absentmindedly, Harry’s fingers touched the inside of his left bicep, remembering the pain that had put those darkened lines there. He was lucky that no one in the hospital had noticed it, having magically changed his clothes and kept him clean while he was unconscious, too focused on his wounds to take notice of the strange, almost hidden marking. It was small, almost missable, but it was there. Evidence of what he had become. Evidence of how different he really was now… The Master of Death the Parchment listed and the magic used to form it did not lie…

Haunted green eyes travelled to the list of many properties that he now owned, the locations in which they were set in. Most of them were all so far away, detached and secluded from the troubles of England. His eye caught one property the most: 32b Black House in America. He had always wanted to go to America, live in the crowds, a country of dreams, a country of new beginnings and lost pasts. Harry felt like that in America he could shed all of his worries and stress. Maybe be could adapt it, so that he could live in the muggle world for a while, go back to things of a simpler kind? But to go back into the muggle world, the muggle-warded Black House was out of the question, maybe he could buy a flat? Perhaps he could move somewhere warm and to the south?

Before he knew what he was doing, Harry was packing up his few belongings that he would need into a bag, leaving the majority of his threadbare clothes and worn shoes behind. By the time he was finished, he held a duffle bag within a white knuckled grip and a letter held delicately within the other. He knew that Hermione or someone else would be back here later, another attempt to persuade him into going back to the school and complete his education.

Carefully, regretfully, Harry placed the letter down on the velvet green arm chair that he had sat before, the room around him now clean due to a cleaning charm. It was a small goodbye, something to explain why he was leaving, how Dumbledore had betrayed him, that he was going to keep in contact and that he wished they would forgive him for a crappy goodbye, but he knew that they would be able to convince him otherwise. He detailed that Hermione and Ron could live here, though it would still be in his name, as he didn’t want Kreacher to be alone for the time that he was away, unsure if he would ever come back to this place after all the loss it held for him. He placed his phone number at the end of the parchment, having gotten a new phone after his last one had been destroyed.

With one last look around the place, Harry placed his hand upon the door handle, ready to leave, but was then stopped by a soft popping soft, one that he knew well. He paused in place, before he gave a small sigh and turned around, facing Kreacher with a small regretful smile.

“Where is Master Harry going?” he asked, voice croaky as it always was with old age as he stared up at Harry with narrowed eyes.

“I’m leaving Kreacher, I’m leaving the country for a while. And I’m not sure if I would ever be coming back…” Harry trailed off, eyes down cast in shame. He felt like he was running away, despite knowing that he knew that this was right for him. “I don’t expect you to come with me, you’ve lived here for so long, it would be cruel to uproot you to another country entirely. Don’t worry. Hermione and Ron will be here, you like them after all.”

Kreacher uttered nothing as he bowed his head, the silence lapping uncomfortable between them. Then, the old House-Elf looked up, a grim but accepting expression set upon his features. “If Master feels like he must leave, then leave he must. Kreacher will be waiting upon Master’s return.” he nodded slowly before he turned around and shuffled away, his goodbyes said and done.

With a small, amused smile at Kreacher’s antics, Harry bid the elf and low farewell before he opened the door and closed it for what would be the last time for years to come.

* * *

Harry stared at his bicep dully, eyes raking over the dark lines that made up the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The symbol was conveniently placed, one that was easy to see and easily hidden. He hated it. Harry had always been fond of tattoos, he saw them often on people that were wild and free, creating memories and rebelling against the social laws of ‘normal people’, the prospect of being free had been a tantalising element throughout his whole life and he’d always promised himself to get one when he finally ripped himself from the Dursley’s cruel hold. But now, this symbol, this tattoo, this brand, was just another piece of evidence of his confinement - one he didn’t see himself getting out of sooner or later…

Looking down at the Elder wand and the resurrection stone, Harry frowned. He didn’t like these items. They were drenched in blood over the course of Merlin knows how many years and it held no value to him. His cloak, Harry hoped he would always have, maybe pass it down to his own child like his father before him and so on. But this wand and stone was a curse upon him - they made him immortal, kept him from being normal and set him apart from the crowd. This was something that he had never desired. Never even crossed his mind and now that he had it in his possession, he wanted it gone.

He looked out towards the skyline, eyes squinting against the wind as it threaded itself roughly through his messy hair that had gotten slightly shaggy in the time he had been recovering in St Morgan’s. This was a very desolate spot in Scotland, completely removed from civilisation, on a high cliff with the waves crashing down below. The sea would take them away. For days now, Harry had been attempting to destroy the items with his own wand, using light and bordering on dark curses to try and rid himself of them, but nothing worked, and every time the smoke cleared, the two glinting and shiny items stared back at him mockingly. Harry didn’t even question how they had gotten in his trunk, having gone in there to look for more clothes when he had been released from the hospital, the three Deathly Hallows laid neatly before him. The only explanation for how they had gotten there was Death himself.

Scowling at the memory of Death and glancing at the markings that the deity had forced upon him, Harry glared at the two items with hatred, not hesitating a moment longer as he reared back his hand and threw them, one after the other into the crashing waves, hoping that the build up of dirt would keep them covered for centuries to come.

The deed come, Harry nodded, pleased with himself, before he turned on his heel and started to head back, only to freeze and his eyes to go round with shock when he came face to face with Death, the skeletal figure not standing a few more feet behind him.

Quickly, Harry gathered himself, a glare of anger making his larger than average magic stir and his eyes to glow a more luminous green as he bard his teeth, “There, I’ve lost them. That no longer makes me the Master of Death.” he declared confidently, to the silent figure, arms crossed, “You can either take me to the other side of the Veil, or you can leave and collect me when I’m old and withered. Your choice.” the teen opened his hands in invitation. Merlin, he must be one of the most metal people out there to speak to Death like this…

Death kept quiet, and Harry shifted, becoming unnerved by the silence and unable to read the atmosphere, which only put him on edge.

“I’m leaving now.” Harry stated, tone of voice less confident than before, and only hesitated slightly before he started to walk, aiming to get back to his rented apartment and get some sleep. He had an early flight in the morning.

“You think that just because you throw away the power that I have bestowed on you, no longer makes you my Master? My companion?” asked the raspy voice, the air getting impossibly colder as he strode slowly towards a frozen Harry, feet once again stuck to the earth. “This is not your choice to make anymore, and whether it was by accident or intentional, you are the Master of Death and my Hallows have chosen you, that is not something you can reject.” he stated coldly, now only a few inches from Harry as the teen stared into the shadows of the hood, trying to be brave all while feeling his knees knock together.

“You can’t force this on me. This is not my responsibility or Title to hold. I rebuke the title and all benefits that come with it! Now let me go!” he shouted, fear and anger making him irrational as he tugged at his legs and felt tears of desperation gathering in the corners of his eyes, “I want a human life! A normal life, where I can meet someone, grow old and die in peace! I want to live out as a memory of my past deeds years from now, not stuck as a physical ghost on the living plane while my loved ones fall around me! Now, let me go!” Harry thundered, a hot tear rolling down his cheek before he reverently wiped it away, turning his head away from the entity as it crept all the more closer until they were nothing but a foot apart.

Silently, Death unwrapped his hands from his cloak and Harry thought that maybe Death was going to kill him when his eyes landed on the two things he wanted to be rid of the most in this wretched world. Eyes wide, Harry shook his head, glancing from the resurrection stone that sat in Death’s wide pale palm and the Elder wand that was settled in the other, both looking clean and pristine like he had never thrown them off the damn cliff.

Again, Harry shook his head, eyes wet as he looked up at Death pleadingly, “I don’t want them. I never have! Why can’t you just take them back? They’re yours anyway! If you want, you can have the cloak as well!” Harry tried to bargain his way out, but at Death’s continued silence, Harry couldn’t help the heated anger that filled his chest as he glared at Death with poisonous green glowing eyes, as bright as torchlights, “If you don’t take them back, I’ll just throw them away again. Burry them in an unmarked grave, leave them in the four corners of the earth. Is that what you want?! I’ll do it if I have to!” Harry shouted at the entity, before his hands clasped at his legs again, trying to lift a foot from the earth, neck straining with the effort, and face growing red with anger and frustration, “Gahhh! Let me go! Now!”

“No.”

Immediately, Harry froze, a chill travelling down his spine as Death said that one word, anger and impatience making Harry’s muscles lock and tense in preparation.

Vibrant green eyes locked into the shadows, fear dancing across his green orbs as he glared up at the deity defiantly, “What do you mean, ‘no’?” he asked, voice low as the all too familiar feeling of dread bubbled away in his gut, making him feel sick.

“You are my Master, my Companion, and I shall not let you leave,” Death stated, voice seeming to reverberate through Harry’s entire being like Death was trying o drive the point home, “If I gift these to you again, will you continue to attempt to throw them away?”

“Yes.” Harry hissed honestly, after a moment of pause between the two.

The hooded figure nodded sagely as if he had expected Harry to say as much, “Then you leave me no choice.” was the only thing Harry heard before his hands were wrecked from his sides and yanked up over his head by invisible chains, making his mid-section stretch uncomfortably as the souls of his feet refused to depart from the ground. Harry breathed heavily from the uncomfortable stretch, chest heaving as he breathed rapidly through his nose as to keep the sounds of discomfort from passing through his lips. Death only leaned closer, posture and body language giving way to determined regret as he drew ever closer to Harry’s prone form.

“St-Stay away!” Harry gritted through clenched teeth, nearly snarling at the entity of Death like a feral animal.

In return, Death only held out the Hallows, the invisibility cloak now joined with the others as it draped over Death’s arm, “I am sorry, my Companion, but you are the Master of Death and such a reward is not easily turned away. You will soon accept it with time, my friend.” Death stated, tone almost mono as he took the cloak and folded it in the air, the stone and wand settling professionally on top, like a damn display in an antiques store. Taking the items delicately in his long-fingered hands, hands that were not unlike a Goblin’s, the items seemed to shine in a foreign and powerful magic, making the items seem more otherworldly than they already were and Harry could only stare with wide eyes, emotions mixed between wonder and despair as he stared at the items.

Then, in a flash of movement, Death shoved the items in Harry’s chest, the inanimate objects seeming to phase through his cotton shirt and his skin slowly and Harry felt like they were burning him from the inside out. Screams filled the air around them and it took Harry a moment to figure out that the echoing screams of pain were coming from him, hot tears rushing down his cheeks as Death pushed the items through him. When the items were gone, Death pulled his hands away from his chest and Harry slumped forward in the invisible bonds, limp and sweat-dampened hair falling in front of his eyes as he breathed raggedly through his mouth, tears still streaming from his eyes. He didn’t fight when Death’s cold hands travelled to his face, large palms gently cupping his cheeks as he lifted young Wizard’s head up, boney thumbs wiping away the tears like a mother comforting their child. Before Harry could even begin to protest against the careful touch, he had to scrunch up his eyes and grit his teeth as he shivered, a cold chill sweeping throughout every cell of his body as he felt the Deathly Hallows connect to his magic, burying themselves deeper into his large core until they were at the very centre, at the very middle of his core. More tears slipped down his face as he realised what Death had done to ensure that Harry kept his ‘gifts’, too weak to feel angry at that moment, eyes drooping with exhaustion as he slumped more, unconsciously leaning his sweaty face closer into Death’s cupped hands.

“W-Why?” Harry barely mumbled out, not even able to comment as Death threaded his long, spindly fingers through his black hair, sweeping it away from his pale face, touches loving and parental which seemed so odd and foreign to Harry who had never had any kind of affectionate parental touch, other than Molly Weasley on the rare occasion…

“You are my Companion, which makes you my responsibility, mine to look after,” Death explained as Harry’s invisible bonds gently released him, making him fall into Death’s waiting hands, but Harry couldn’t help the pang in his heart when he remembered that Death wouldn’t be taking him away - Death was there to make him stay, no matter what Harry did… “You are my Little Master of Death, Hadrian James Potter, and mine you shall always be.”

In that moment, Harry realised that Death had ultimately, irreversibly claimed him…

Harry opened his mouth to protest, to fight back against the claim, to convince Death to cast his eyes elsewhere, but Harry simply didn’t have the strength to even lift his finger after what had happened, let alone argue against the stubborn entity that was Death… So, Harry could only close his eyes as his head rested against Death’s surprisingly warm robes, the darkness finally welcoming him.

When he woke up in the morning, strangely in his room once again, he’d look in the mirror to find nothing changed about him physically, unlike his last encounter with Death, but he could feel the objects, a constant presence in his chest, in his core, and he could feel nothing but comfort at their location, despite Harry’s rebut against them. He sighed when he remembered Death’s words, possessive and parental. Harry could only manage a small amused smile when he imagined what good old Tommy-boy would have react like to Death’s attitude if he actually made the Master of Death title. The want and the claim made Harry feel warm inside, hope brimming in his lungs as he breathed (the feeling unconscious and unwanted as he tried to fault Death in what he’d done to him), it was something he felt in his third year when Sirius had asked him to move away from the Dursley’s and live with him…

He tusked as he turned away from the mirror, roughly pulling on his shirt and then his dull blue hoodie before he quickly stamped his feet into his shoes and laced them up. He took a quick look around the room before he picked up his room key card and took his suitcase and carry-on. He didn’t want to dwell here any longer, no matter his confusion with Death.

He was going to a new life.

A new start.

He was going to America.


End file.
